Never Meant to Be
by MzShellSan
Summary: In a land far away, where only beings of magic are born with soul marks, a young prince born of magic is destined to a young man made of magic – and neither of them know it. (Doesn't help that in this land, magic is outlawed by the father of said king, but nothing is ever easy so why would this be?). Dedicated to Ato for day 6 of my FicMas event.


**25 Days of FicMas**

**Day:** Six

**Dedication: **Arthur of the Pendragons, Ato

**Fandom: **Merlin

**Pairing: **Merthur

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Merlin

**Never Meant to Be**

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The first time he made contact with Arthur, skin-to-skin, and his mark burned bright on the back of his neck, Merlin had been completely unsure how to react. It was early on in their friendship (he couldn't even be seen as more than some random peasant in fact) and he was still trying to sort out how he felt about a dragon informing him of his supposed _destiny _to really want to complicate that further.

_Two sides of the side coin._

Merlin had snorted to himself. Soul marks were supposed to be a gift to the magical and as such they were only found on creatures of magic. Some druids bared a soul mark and on rare occasions, priests and priestesses of the old religion were born with them as well. On those occasions, Gaius had explained (when he'd seen Merlin's mark), they used to be treated with the utmost respect because it was believed that the universe themselves had chosen them.

Ordinarily it would have been a gift, according to Gaius, but in this instance it was a curse like no other. He could never let anyone catch sight of it because it was a brand that spoke of his inheritance as a being of magic. Uther would have him killed without another thought.

Of course that wasn't the only thing cursed about his mark.

Only he would be unlucky enough to be bound by fate not only by destiny, but also by the gods, to _Arthur Pendragon_.

It was almost funny, Merlin had thought at the time, that no matter where he went, something was always bound to go wrong. Even his soulmate.

At least he'd felt slightly better about being destined to Arthur after getting to know the man better through the time they spent together. But every time they touched, a part of Merlin slowly chipped away – a whole of emptiness laying where he was meant to feel the love of his other half.

He'd never mentioned it to Arthur, didn't want to cause problems, but the mark burned brighter and brighter with every touch shared and at this rate, he was almost terrified that he would burn to ashes.

There were many things in his life, that Arthur regretted but none of them could compare to the way his father looked at his covered wrist whenever the chance arose; his disdain clear.

Under that fabric lay a soul mark, the druid's symbol inky black on his skin.

Arthur didn't know much about it, only that supposedly only creatures of magic had soul marks. Those marks, according to Gaius, were not always connected to another creature of magic but given the nature of his mark, he was almost certain that his was.

Despite that though, he tried to ignore his mark for most of his life. He wore gloves always to cover the mark – on orders of his father – and he refused to remove them in the presence of anyone, ever.

No-one questioned it, although he heard rumours that people believed it was to avoid coming into contact with someone lesser than him.

In truth, he'd been almost positive that his soul mate had died; that they'd been killed at some point by his father. And while that thought hurt, he reminded himself that it was necessary because magic was evil.

But then he met Merlin and that had changed everything.

From moment number one Merlin had made the rage inside him boil, but he'd also been refreshing. Someone willing to challenge him, to argue without fear. Even after learning of who Arthur was, this had not changed and he welcomed it.

Or he had until the moment that their skin had come into contact.

The burning sensation was like nothing that he'd ever experienced and he gritted his teeth against the pull of it in that moment before throwing Merlin from the room.

He had resolved to ignore that, to forget what he knew was true. Merlin didn't have magic, he had no soul mark and he had shown no signs of feeling what Arthur had just felt and he was a _man_.

Even if magic weren't outlawed, Arthur was almost certain that he would never had been to pursue this relationship.

So he didn't.

He'd locked his feelings up tight and forgotten it to the best of his ability, only allowing himself the silent moments during the night to ponder what might have been.

Merlin could feel the way that the mark on the back of his neck seemed to almost burn, warmth spreading over his nape as he stumbled after Arthur, grumbling all the while.

They were on a hunting trip deep into the woods and it was just the two of them this time.

Arthur had all but demanded that be the case.

_'I need to get away for a while, _Mer_lin,'_ he mimicked in his head, mocking the young King's thought process. Why couldn't they do something to get away that _didn't_ involve killing innocent creatures?

"I can almost hear you grumbling in your head and it's scaring off all the animals," Arthur scolded.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Or maybe they're being scared off by how much of a dollophead you are," he scoffed, grinning a little at the look Arthur shot him over his shoulder.

Deliberately, he snapped a couple of twigs under his feet as they continued to move forwards, watching as Arthur seemed to tense more with each snap.

"Are you _incapable_ of making less noise?" he demanded, turning to glare at Merlin.

Shrugging, Merlin grinned. "Of course not _sire_," he joked, "I'm just following your example after all. Though it's hardly your own fault, all that extra weight from eating too much must be ruining your ability to move silently."

"Why you-"

"Careful _sire_, you're being a little loud. You might scare off the animals," Merlin added, amused at the way Arthur's cheeks reddened in anger.

"Merlin," he ground out.

"Yes Sire?"

"Shut. Up."

Merlin dipped his head in agreement, eyes twinkling with mirth as they made their way silently through the woods, only stopping occasionally as Arthur picked up the trail of a deer.

Crouching low, Arthur made a quiet motion to Merlin before taking aim with his crossbow; hands steady.

Biting his lip, Merlin pretended to fall slightly, knocking Arthur forwards just enough for him to shoot the arrow in the wrong direction and scare off the dear.

Backing away, Merlin winced at the angry look on his king's face. "Sorry?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Run."

Squeaking, the warlock turned heel and made a run for it through the woods, all too aware that he was bound to fall sooner or later and that Arthur was not far behind at all.

Glancing over his shoulder when he heard a thump, Merlin's eyes widened at seeing Arthur on the floor.

"Arthur?"

"Not a word, Merlin," he hissed, pushing himself up before attempting to stand, wincing at how it hurt to put pressure on his wrist.

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked, approaching Arthur carefully and pouting slightly when the other man still swung at his head with his left hand.

"Ow," he grumbled, rubbing at it gently.

"I'm fine."

"Let me see," Merlin demanded, reaching for Arthur's hand.

"I said it's fine," Arthur hissed, pulling his wrist away.

Merlin huffed. "Stop being such a prat and just let me take a look at it. I _am_ Gaius' assistant you know."

Fear curled in his gut at the thought of Merlin seeing his mark. He knew that Merlin didn't think of magic the same way many in Camelot did – his friendship with Will had proven as much. But he still worried over what Merlin would say. Would he realise who is mark was for?

Swallowing, Arthur shook his head. "I'll get Gaius to look at it when we return. He'd much more competent."

Merlin scoffed. "Fine," he grumbled. He should be glad; the less contact with Arthur the better. And yet he still craved the chance to touch his king, to feel his other half under his fingers.

"Don't be such a girl about this," Arthur reprimanded awkwardly, unable to handle the silence.

"Oh shove off."

Arthur's eyebrows raised at that. Merlin was usually at least a little more subtle then this. He was clearly sulking over this.

There was a pang of guilt at the thought of continuing to keep such a thing from Merlin. They'd been friends for years and he considered Merlin his greatest advisor. Would it really be that bad to show him the mark?

He pondered this as he made his way through the woods and back to Camelot.

Reaching a clearing, Merlin frowned when Arthur winced at bumping his wrist against his side. He needed to get a better look – no matter what.

Watching Arthur to see if he was paying attention, he moved quickly and grabbed the other man's arm.

"Merlin-"

"Just let me have a quick look at it. If you really think my diagnosis might be wrong then you can check with Gaius at a later point in time."

He didn't wait to hear Arthur complain further, pulling away the leather glove that the young king seemed to constantly wear. Ignoring the stiff reaction from Arthur, he examined the purpling hand gently, careful fingers prodding gently before he turned the wrist over.

Merlin heard Arthur suck in a deep breath and he frowned, expecting to see even more discolouration on the wrist. But that wasn't all that he saw.

In the middle of Arthur's wrist stood the inky black mark of the druid's, a stark contrast to the pasty alabaster skin on the king's hand.

Sucking in his breath, Merlin could hardly believe it. Arthur had a soulmark.

"Is it mine?"

Arthur frowned, unsure how Merlin could possibly have come to that conclusion. It was a druidic symbol and while merlin had protected the druids before, he was hardly one of them.

"No?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow at how unsure he sounded. "Say it with some meaning and I might actually believe you," he joked.

"Why does it matter, Merlin? You don't have a soulmark. _I _shouldn't even have a soulmark. The gods only know that I'm as far from magic as it get's."

"it matters because I _do_ have a soulmark, you absolute clotpole."

There was silence between them as Arthur processed that, unsure of how to feel about that news.

"But to have a soulmark you have to have-"

"Magic. Yes, Arthur."

Arthur felt numb, unsure of how to react. On one hand, he'd just learnt that his soul mate and he both shared marks but on the other, Merlin had magic. And he'd never once thought to mention it.

"You didn't trust me?" he hated how vulnerable the question sounded, but he stood his ground.

Merlin shook his head quickly, eyebrows drawn together tightly. "I trusted you," he promised, "I just didn't want to make you choose between your father and-"

Holding up his hand, Arthur shook his head. "Don't bother. Whatever your excuse may be, it doesn't matter."

"Arthur-"

Arthur shook his head, "I'll want to hear more later, but for now, there's something I've been wanting to do for a while now."

Tilting his head, Merlin blinked in confusion. "And that is?"

"This."

Before Merlin could ask what 'this' was, he leant in, careful not to press his injured wrist against Merlin as his uninjured wrist moved to cup the warlock's neck gently and pull him towards Arthur.

Merlin practically melted as their lips finally met in a chaste kiss, leaning in eagerly.

It was everything that Arthur had imagined and so much more.

Later they would have to discuss things further. As a king he had responsibilities, he had a kingdom to consider. But for now, this was enough for him.


End file.
